


Scour the Tar From Your Skin

by SenorSandwich



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Let's Work Through Some Shit, POV Arthur, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:41:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24183040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenorSandwich/pseuds/SenorSandwich
Summary: POV Arthur begrudgingly accepts a "Deluxe Bath" after a long night in Van Horn, where he makes an unexpected connection with the woman working that night over grief and loss.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

They didn’t used to be like this. Used to be you’d use a pump and barrel outside and no one charged you anything for it. Then I guess some entrepreneur somewhere decided he’d move the barrel inside and charge a nickel for it, then some other such person in a whorehouse decided to send a girl in early for an extra dime, and hell if not every goddamn hotel in the country didn’t start doing it too. Used to be a bath was for getting clean, now it’s about getting a bottle and a tug. Cept the wine is leftovers and the girl is a shaking sixteen year old with no interest in anyone and no sense besides. The kind of thing fools love because it makes them feel special. Always makes me feel like an idiot.  
Sean bought me a bath in Valentine once, trying to be a smartass. Let Lenny have it. When he came back they asked how it was, and he shrugged and said it was worth what he paid. Javier got drunk on gut rot and wanted to know why I didn’t take it, kept hammering at it, like he thought it meant something special. Figured he was just drunk, but maybe he was just being himself. The gang being a family, he gets real into that. So do I, sometimes, but I let a person be. He wants to talk, hermano a hermano, hombre a hombre, hey why don’t you want a blow job from the dumb barback Arthur? Maybe you’ll be more friendly with empty balls. Could’ve broke a bottle over his head, but I like him more than he deserves. Told him to shut up and kept drinking, thought that was the end of it.

We did a job up by Van Horn picking off logger money. Easy target, no trouble, only bullets fired went into the air. That kind of job makes a man cocky, gets him strutting and spending like he’s hot shit. Sure enough, soon as we turned the corner from that stagecoach the boys was on a mission to get fall-down drunk. They said no one asks questions in Van Horn, and they wanted to take that opportunity to let loose. Like that’s special, like none of us couldn’t do that anywhere on our own and have a better time besides.   
I gave them each the allowance they was due and told ‘em I’d be in later sometime. Headed down to the docks and pulled out my line, tried to ignore how cold it was and how sore I was, told myself I could head back tonight even, that I could make a campfire warm enough. 

How drunk was Javier when he found me? Not enough, I guess.  
“You going to drink with us Arthur?”   
“I’m not planning on it.”  
“What if I buy?”  
“That’s not-”  
Turned to look and I’ll be damned if the bastard hadn’t brought liquor and an armful of shot glasses out with him from the bar.  
“How about this, you quit being sorry for yourself long enough to throw back some shots with me, I’ll leave you alone.”  
“That’s what it’s gonna take?”  
“Yep. I do three, you do three. Same time.”  
“They okay with you taking those?”  
“Yeah they’re okay with it, shut up and grab one.”  
So, damn it, I grabbed one. He brought three, for some reason. Let the third fall into the mud.   
“What is that, gin?”  
“Ah, just trust me and drink it!”  
Like I couldn’t smell it and tell what it was anyway. Javier’s only been around about five years, he doesn’t know how much I used to drink, unless someone told him.   
Our glasses clinked and we took the first one. That flat, sick, sweet juniper taste. Gin is not my first choice.  
Javier blinked at me, trying to think of something to say I guess, deciding on, “How’s it?”  
“It’s gin.”  
“Nothing gets past you, Arthur.”  
Idiot part of me liked that he said my name, behind that I was just irritated. We’re decent, but we ain’t friends.  
“Best pour the second.”  
I finished the second shot before Javier did and took the bottle to pour my own third, Javier making faces like he was sucking a lemon.  
“Don’t go too fast, hurt your guts,” I told him, handing the bottle back.  
“Fuck you,” he coughed, laughing a bit. Then, “You want a fourth? Keep it.”  
“I agreed to enough,” I said, laughing a bit back, trying not to be too much the sour bastard.  
“You look like you could drink another three,” he said, then, “You okay?”  
I don’t know what I’m supposed to say when people say something like that, especially when they say it that way, out of nowhere. Like a threat. “Better now.”  
“Feel like poker?”  
“How about this, you leave me alone to have a nice long talk with this bottle, and I’ll think about it.”  
“Okay Arthur,” he waved at me with his shit- eater grin, walked back up the bank, slipping in the mud. He’s a good man, sometimes, shame for him to waste it on us. 

I meant it when I said I wanted to stop at three, but something about having a bottle in your hand just makes you want to finish it. I have a spectacular, single-minded followthrough, when it comes to drinking, according to Dutch. Guess I don’t think about it that way. Not about proving something. Hosea said it better. When we was younger and I was being sore or quiet, Hosea would always pass me something and say, “take your medicine.” Each time, got to be a running joke, “take your medicine.” Pretty soon that was just how I thought about it. It was a thing to take in the morning and every hour after, blunt the edge of living and guarantee a better time. Felt like I was more human when I drank, like it was watering down all my black- tar awfulness, letting what was the better parts of me shine through, trick people.  
Not being Lyle kept me twisting up in a lot of odd ways, but I couldn’t get away from the drinking for the longest time. If we didn’t take in any more kids, if we just kept hiring mean bastards like every other gang, my bones would be bleaching out in the sun somewhere. No doubt.   
Sometimes still today I’ll wake up with that bottom-of-the-earth, black and done-with-it feeling and I’ll try to start drinking again, drinking to get drunk and not come back from it. Can’t do it like I used to. Get irritated and tired halfway through and just quit, unless someone else is there. Probably for the best. I’m useless for a good few days after anyways, and we can’t afford that. Not now, not again, not for a long while, probably not.

Anyways, if gin has done me any real good in my life ever it was convincing me to get a hotel room that night, and that’s the truth. Wasn’t even going to talk to the boys about it, except I had to go grab the horse, and guess who was out by the posts taking a piss.  
“Michah wants to play finger fillet, no more poker,” Javier slurred.   
“Big surprise.”  
“You want to watch him stab himself now’s your chance.”  
“Want to go to bed. Dream about stabbing him myself.”  
Javier laughed, stuffed himself back in his pants. “He’s not that bad.”  
“He definitely is.”  
Michah busted out of the saloon right there and then, go figure. Hot-headed idiot always coming out of doors like he thought the whole town was gonna turn to look at what a big tough guy he was.  
“Heeyyy cowpoke!” Couldn’t ever let a thing be. “Coming to slum it with the beaner and the darkie?”  
Javier cussed him out rapidfire.  
“Ah sorry hombre, we don’t speak that around here.”  
“Better get your ass back in the bar, you still owe me another round.”  
How those two became friends I’ll never understand. Mystery of the universe, how some of these fools come together.  
“Coming in to spoil the fun, Morgan?”  
“I think that’s one of the few things I can trust you to handle alone.”  
“Suit yourself,” he shrugged with his whole shoulders, his whole arms, holding his palms face up. Can’t do nothing without looking like a moron. “Can’t say I’ll miss you.” He walked back in.  
“Not gonna let him get away with having a good time are you?”  
“Just grabbing Tomahawk and getting a room.”  
“Do me a favor,” said Javier, “I’m too drunk to do it myself, you win some of my money back from Michah I’ll buy your room for you.”  
I laughed. “Room’s less than a dollar, if I won your money back I’d just keep it.”  
“Then do it so Lenny can see the look on Michah’s face when he stabs himself in front of you. He could use a laugh.”  
I sighed. Bone-tired and damp all over, not soaked through yet, but the wind blowing that decaying lake- smell deep inside my skin. Realized the only warm and glowing part of me right then and there was the liquor Javier stole for me, muddied himself to bring out to my gloomy ass. Crazy dumb fool trying his dumb fool best to make everyone have a good time. Better parts of him the kinds of things I’ve never had in me. So once again there I was, letting him be nice, trying not to be too much the sour bastard.   
“Alright. For Lenny.”  
“For Lenny!” he cheered. Let loose a big ol’ war whoop right in my ear. The pair of us busted in that greasy door, into the damp sour smell of sweat and beer and spit and piss and frying fish. Already wet and tired and pushing it, still thankfully unaware of how much more living I was about to force into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

Like I said, bar hit me with all the smells of sinful living and rotting flora what’s been submerged in water too long. Lake and river towns, can’t stand em. Boys had a table in the front room against the far left corner, all the other folks knowing enough already to keep their distance. Lenny and Michah already at it. Suddenly felt like I needed another shot.  
“Tequila?”  
“Don’t need to ask twice!” said Javier. 

Bartender was a lady. Looked like she’d lived a full lifetime dealing with dumb fools already. Sure looked at us like she knew a pair of dumb fools when she saw them. Looked like she might have been one herself, but didn’t mean she hadn’t suffered a whole lot on behalf of others of her kind, I guess.  
She didn’t have tequila. I vetoed gin for whiskey. Head was already swimming but I knew Bill’s high-pitched catterwallin anywhere, knew it was him right off when I heard someone across the way yell, “Well that’s just real nice boys, don’t bother asking if we want any.” Toughest- acting idiots always the first to complain.  
“Shut up Bill.”  
“Glad to see you’re not too good to join us, Morgan.”  
“When’s the last time you bought anyone a drink, Bill?” Lenny said.  
I might have made a cut right then about Bill and his boys, but I didn’t. That’s how I knew I wasn’t bad drunk yet.  
“Shut your dumb mouth,” Bill said. Dutch had already chewed Bill out for calling Lenny certain kinds of names, and without those, the dumb bastard couldn’t make a decent retort to save his life. Lenny just laughed.

Micah stared at me as we sat down. Slimy bastard always looking at me like he’s waiting for an exposed neck.  
“Heard you boys was taking turns stabbing yourselves.”  
“Why, wanna try your luck, cowpoke?”  
I called that dumb bastard a cowpoke all of one time, and he’s been calling me that ever since. Not a dumb man alive more irritating than an average man who thinks he’s intelligent.  
Anyways, I don’t consider this bragging because it’s nothing worth bragging about, but I’m pretty good at five finger fillet. Beaten most of everyone I’ve ever played against. Beaten Javier close to half a dozen times, had already beaten Michah twice before. Would’ve been more if he hadn’t scurried away after two losses. Must have smelled how drunk I was getting and wanted to jump at the opportunity to win back whatever pride he’d lost.   
“I’ll take any opportunity to watch you make a fool of yourself,” I said.  
“How about we do another round first?”

Now by this time I was more skunked than I had been in a long time. Not Valentine drunk, not yet, but the last shot hadn’t sunk in properly and sitting up straight was starting to not be worth my time. Getting to the point I was just gonna be sick the next morning, no escaping it. Like I said, can’t be bothered with that anymore, not usually.  
“I’m done. You can keep going.”  
“Ah, c’mon Morgan, what’s the fun in that?”  
Then Javier said something joking like, “Real subtle, trying to get Arthur drunk off his ass so you’ll have a chance.”  
Right away Michah’s face got all dark and pissy. Could almost smell piss on his breath when he said, “We’re both drinking.”   
Fuck it, I laughed. Crazy how seriously he could take things. Life miserable enough without getting bent out of shape over a game for dumb hicks.  
“Clearly I’ll need more if I’m going to spend any more of my time sitting across from you. I’m getting a beer.” So we both stood up and walked to the bar. 

Bartender still looking like someone smeared shit under her nose. Couldn’t even open my mouth to order before she started in.  
“You aren’t plannin on messing up my tables anymore than you already did, are you?” Looking right at me when she said it, like I’d been there the whole time. “‘Cause you can’t drink here if that’s the way y’all are gonna behave.”  
That’s how it is. Walk into any town and if someone decides they don’t like you, they make up a reason for it. Can’t just come out and tell you they don’t like you and be done with it, gotta make up some idiot reason.   
I looked back at the table, looked at her, looked back at the table, looked at her again, and pointed, real helpful, to where we was. “That table?” I asked. “That the table you worried we’re gonna ‘mess up?’”  
She still had sour puss but now it was frozen. Wasn’t used to being talked back to, just that enough to get her scared.  
“Cause I’m pretty sure your lovely patrons ain’t gon notice much if some scuff marks get covered by more scuff marks.”  
“Eaaasy there chief,” Micah came in, “Don’t you mind him, miss, man’s had a little more than he can handle. I’ll keep a good eye on him and make sure he doesn’t break anything. In the meantime,” he slid a five dollar bill towards her across the bar, and it caught on the grease a bit, “Two beers would be godsend from you. Keep the change.” She stared at him for a beat then snatched up the money like he was gonna change his mind. Handed him both beers, didn’t look at me. Heartbreaker. We walked back and sat down.

“That the first time you tipped a girl in your life?” I asked.  
“You gave that girl money?” Lenny asked. “Why? She’s been burning a hole in the back of your head since we got here.”  
“These small town bartenders,” Micah sighed, big and full, way he always sounded when he was getting ready to explain something he thought was real smart. “They’re used to being the most important person in their horseshit world. You let them act a little tough and a little special, they get real friendly real quick. After that, you can walk all over them and they could give a shit. It’s all about lettin ‘em believe the story they tell themselves. That’s what’s most important.”  
“Just got it all figured out don’t you?” said Javier.  
“I call it the way I see it.”  
Didn’t say nothing myself, but decided right there that was the only thing about Michah that was ever worth a damn; didn’t understand hardly anything, but the things he got right he hit bullseye, straight in the center.


End file.
